


Ticket To Ride

by tigerlady (shetiger)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, PWP, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-29
Updated: 2012-09-29
Packaged: 2017-11-15 06:43:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/524248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shetiger/pseuds/tigerlady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sheriff! Hello. What can I do for you?"</p><p>"Melissa," he said, soft amusement tipping the corner of his mouth up. He was in uniform, neat tan cloth molding softly to his chest and thighs, gold badge sparkling in the sun.  "I'm afraid I need to talk to you about a problem."</p><p>(Or, she's got a ticket to ride, and she don't care.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ticket To Ride

**Author's Note:**

> This came about because I was bitching about how the lack of a first name makes it really difficult to write porn involving the sheriff, and someone pointed out, "uh, duh, role play?" And then this happened. Thank you to alyse for betaing and providing the title.
> 
> Please see note at end of story if you would like more information about what kink appears.

She had her hands twisted first-knuckle deep in her hair when the doorbell rang.

"No, no, no." Melissa turned her wrist so she could glimpse the face of her watch in the mirror. She'd never been all that good at reading it upside down, but she was pretty sure it screamed 'late'. She was always running late, and today was no exception.

The doorbell rang again. She tugged her fingers out of her hair, giving up on the simple braid she preferred to wear to work. Instead, she fished a ponytail holder out of the ceramic saucer where it made its home. The callous on her index finger rasped against the chip in the edge, and she smiled, just like she did every time. Scott had cried so hard when he'd dropped the handmade gift on the way home from school in fourth grade, convinced that he'd ruined her Mother's Day. Her precious, precious little man had always had a heart of gold--gold wrapped around a soft chocolate center.

Melissa glanced back up to the mirror. Her little man wasn't so little anymore. Seventeen years old, and it showed in the crow's feet trying to run away from her eyes. She kept her makeup light and professional for work, but right now, she couldn't help wishing for a little more color to offset the little lines and creases in her face.

The bell rang again twice in a row, quick and impatient.

"Crap," she muttered, and ran for the stairs. She was breathless from the rush when she flung the door open, nowhere near the cool and collected image she tried--and usually failed--to project. She smiled anyway. "Sheriff! Hello. What can I do for you?"

"Melissa," he said, soft amusement tipping the corner of his mouth up. He was in uniform, neat tan cloth molding softly to his chest and thighs, gold badge sparkling in the sun. There was something about him that always made her think of long, canvas dusters and a dark brown Stetson gripped in the hand. The sun-deepened lines in his face were real, though, as was the gun at his hip.

His smile turned to a grimace, and he shifted his weight to the side to stand hipshot, somehow looking more official and more uncomfortable all at the same time. "I'm afraid I need to talk to you about a problem."

Even though she knew better, even though she knew that he wouldn't have smiled at first if Scott were in trouble, her heart sped up anyway. He read it off her immediately, because he reached out, fingers curling gently around the wrist of the hand she'd unthinkingly brought towards her face.

"Parking tickets," he said firmly. "That's all, I promise. Just parking tickets."

"Right. Of course." Embarrassment and relief flashed through her at the same time. He flushed as well, mostly at the neck, like he was either embarrassed for her, or upset at himself because he'd upset her. He started to drop his hand away from her wrist, but she caught at his fingers before he could get too far, squeezing gently before she let him go. "Sorry. I just--"

"I get it." That barely there smile was back, sliding into wry territory this time. "Believe me, I get it. I shouldn't have come here like this--"

"No!"

He blinked a little at her vehemence, and Melissa tensed her muscles hard, strangling back her body's need to blush again. 

"Sorry. I'm not--" She pulled in a lungful of air. Letting it escape in one big huff wasn't all that attractive, she was certain, but she felt more centered because of it. "Please, Sheriff. Why don't you come in?"

"If you're sure," he said, but he didn't hesitate to step over the threshold. Melissa led him into the TV room, giving the couch a quick once over before they got too close, but everything was as clean and tidy as she'd left it last night. He shifted from foot to foot, hand coming up to rest behind his sidearm before he dropped it again. He finally sat down, flashing her a tight smile.

Melissa sat as well, knees brushing his, and leaned forward a bit, squashing the ridiculous little flutters with the flex of her abs. "Parking tickets?" she prompted.

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Now, listen. I know they don't seem like that big of a deal, and it's easy to put them off when you're trying to make ends meet. But if you don't pay them, it's a problem. A big one."

"A problem." She nodded once, waiting for him to go on, though... Scott surely knew that, didn't he? She'd have to remind him the next time she let him borrow the car. 

"They can be, if you let them go long enough."

Aaaand she really needed to be focusing on the man beside her. Melissa slapped her hands on her thighs, which was really over the top, but she'd never been good at playing innocent. "Oh, those parking tickets! I really should have paid those. Bad me."

He frowned, extra-hard, like he was putting real effort into it. "I'm going to have to take you in, Melissa." He raised a hand when she opened her mouth. "Don't worry, it's not as bad as it sounds. We go in, you pay the fine, and then I'll bring you back home."

"But I don't have that kind of money!" That was the saddest truth involved in this whole thing. It made her smile wobble when she laid her hand on his arm. She wondered if he noticed the way her breathing had turned shallow, or the fluttering of the pulse at her throat. Cops were trained to pick up on those kind of things. "And I can't spend a night in jail! I can't set that kind of example for Scott."

He blew a long, uncomfortable breath out through his nose. "I know, Melissa, but the law's the law."

"Can't I maybe, I don't know, work it off or something? Surely the station could use a nurse's skills from time to time." Red-painted floors flashed in front of her eyes, but Melissa shoved the memory aside. It was just her and him, right here on her couch, daylight softened by the drapes on the front window. "Little things, of course. Maybe I could help with insurance reports."

"We don't really have anything," he said, which wasn't the firm no an upright man of the law should have given. He rubbed his hand over his mouth, looking uncomfortable, but before he could offer up another line about rules or precedences, she dropped her hand to his thigh.

"Maybe a more...personal arrangement?" she asked. His quad jumped under her palm, like he wanted to bound up off of the couch but was holding himself back. Melissa rubbed her thumb back and forth, pretending it was meant to be soothing. "When's the last time you had a checkup? I know it must be hard for you to get in to see someone, as busy as you are."

"Well." He shifted his weight, the leather of the couch groaning with his discomfort. He dropped his hand down towards hers but pulled back before they touched. "It has been a while. It'd be good if I could reassure Stiles that the old ticker's running just fine."

"Exactly." She patted his thigh, then stood. He did the same without any coaxing. Her gaze fell to the gun at his side, and his mouth twisted.

"Let me get this out of your way," he said. His fingers had that grace that came of years of practice as he unbuckled his Sam Brown belt. He eased it off his hips and around in front of him in one quick motion. He was careful as he set it down on the coffee table in front of them, but the gun still clunked loudly against the scuffed varnish, something deep in one of the pockets tinkling before it settled.

"So I'll just start with your pulse, then." Her fingers felt swollen and slick, though she wasn't actually sweating. She swiped her hand against her scrub top anyway, wishing, not for the first time, that she'd worn something a little more flattering. She set the tips of her first two fingers against the soft, hot skin of his throat, a little too high, and then slid them down, his stiff collar brushing the back of her hand, until she could feel the hard kick drumming against her.

"So what's the verdict?" he asked after a moment. "Not a zombie, I hope?"

She snorted, then shook her head. His pulse was actually faster than she'd thought it'd be. Not dangerously so, but it surprised her. A man like him, Sheriff of Beacon Hills, was surely used to more thrilling situations. Maybe she'd pushed too hard. Maybe he didn't really want to do this, and was only following through because she'd asked for it.

He just stood, waiting, under her touch, looking down at her with softly curious eyebrows.

"Um." She let her hand drop and stepped back. "Are you sure you--?"

He smiled then, and Melissa forgot exactly what she was going to say next. God, he was handsome. 

"I should probably help you out here a bit," he said, those graceful fingers of his coming up to open the front of his shirt. The slow reveal of the white T-shirt underneath was more tantalizing than any Chippendales show could ever hope to be. He tugged the tails free of his pants and then unbuckled the simple brown leather belt at his waist. She was disappointed when he dropped his hands to his sides.

Melissa swallowed. "Undershirt, too."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, and stripped it over his head. She liked that, the way he said _ma'am_. Not like the pimply-faced cashier younger than Scott at the Save Mart. From him, it sounded knowing, like he was aware of the experience that came with the years.

She laid her hands on his pecs. Hair crinkled under her palms as she stroked downwards, his chest heaving with a sharp breath when her thumbs crossed his nipples. "Good muscle definition," she murmured. She kept going, until his hip bones supported the weight of her hands. "Body fat certainly seems to be at a decent percentage."

"I'm glad you approve." He twitched his hand forward, towards her hip, but then curled his fingers in on themselves in a loose fist. "So that means I'm healthy?"

"I can't really say for sure," she said, dipping her fingers into the hollow between cloth and skin at the small of his back. "Not without a stress test."

He nodded. "Gotta get the heart rate up. Gotcha."

"I do love a cooperative patient." She ran her fingers around to the front of his waistband, watching his eyes as she found the button and hook. His pupils were wide, dark, but she wasn't sure if it was intensity or wariness she was reading alongside his arousal. She stroked her knuckles over the swell of his cock, and his eyelids dipped, his mouth dropping open. 

She waited for a couple of breaths, but he was letting her run this, giving her complete control of this show. Her thumb found the hard metal of his zipper, and she coaxed it downwards. She thought about pushing his pants all the way down, stripping him completely bare, but she liked the idea of him half-trapped in his uniform pants.

"Sit," she ordered, and he did, tucking a couple of the throw pillows behind his back. She knelt slowly, hands on his thighs to support her. The rug wasn't thick enough to cushion her knees, and there wasn't nearly enough room between the front of the couch and the heavy table behind her to be comfortable.

It was perfect.

"Jesus," he breathed when she reached into his briefs, drawing him out through the y-front. 

Melissa held his gaze as she slowly curled forwards, watching him watch her until her lips met the head of his cock. She had to look down then, had to see the thick length of him, wet with his need for her. She held him steady and took a single long lick, from root to head, and was rewarded with an almost pained-sounding groan. She had a plan, but at that moment she couldn't stop herself from going down on him all the way, taking him in as far as she could. She did it again, and again, spurred on by the ragged gasps that escaped him and the way his fingers clenched on his own thighs.

After a few more pulls, she sat back on her heels, licking her lips while she waited for him to open his eyes.

"Melissa," he rasped at last, blinking like he'd just emerged from a cave. "What--?"

"Sheriff," she said as coyly as she could manage--which wasn't all that coy, to tell the truth, but it probably didn't matter at the moment. He looked down at her, still blinking, and she brought her hand up to tease at him, fingers stroking ever so lightly over the length of his cock. "We're agreed, yes?"

"We were getting pretty agreeable a moment ago," he muttered grumpily, trying to thrust into her hand. Melissa held back a laugh and squeezed him hard, halting his thrusts. He sputtered, then said, "I think I missed something."

"You're as healthy as a horse." _And hung like one, too,_ she wanted to add, but that was reaching way too deep into the bad porn dialogue bag. "So I'm not going to have any more problems with those pesky parking tickets, right?"

A smile crept across his face, and he let out a chuckle. "I'm pretty sure you could kill someone right now and I wouldn't care. Hell, I'm pretty sure you're about to."

Her laughter pealed out, ripping the script in her head straight down the middle and dumping it into the trash. 

He reacted by catching hold of both her shoulders and pulling her up. She barely had time to get her breath back before he drew her in for a crazy wild kiss, their jaws spread too wide, their mouths pushing too hard together for it to be anything but filthy need. He wrapped his arms around her, one arm going under her ass to lift her up into his lap. It was awkward, him slumped down against the back of the couch, pillows thrusting his chest up into the air, his ass not really on the seat, but she didn't want to stop kissing him to rearrange. Not just yet.

"Is this good?" he finally panted out. "Can we just-- Do I need to call you my naughty nurse or something?"

"This is good. This is great," she said, letting her head drop back as he pushed her scrub top up and over her head. She stripped it the rest of the way off, tossing it carelessly to the side. It whacked the lampshade on the end table with enough force to make it rattle, and she cringed, waiting for the whole thing to fall. But then he buried his face in her breasts, nuzzling the space between them, and she stopped paying attention to anything else.

He rubbed his cheek over her breasts, barely visible stubble long enough to rasp against the satin of her bra. She caught at his head, holding on to soft strands of his hair the best she could as he worked his tongue against the cloth over her nipple.

"God, Melissa," he said, breathing hot onto the dampness covering her skin. "You do kill me. Every damn time."

She flattened her palm against his shoulder, pushing him back to give herself room. They were perched precariously and she floundered for balance for a moment before she got her feet under her so she could stand up. She pushed her scrub bottoms down, taking her panties with them. "You really need to fuck me. Now."

He slid his hand up the inside of her thigh and pressed the tips of his fingers against her, not pushing in, not rubbing, just touching her, warm and steady. "You want--"

She pushed on his shoulder again. "What I want is for you to fuck me."

"Yes, ma'am." He started to draw her down to him, urging her to straddle him. And it would be good, she knew from experience it would be fantastic, but that wasn't how it had gone in her fantasy.

"Wait," she said, slipping away from his hands. He cocked an eyebrow that said _I thought you were in a hurry_ , and she offered up a _yeah, yeah_ eyeroll paired with a _you'll see_ smile. Their knees knocked together when she moved to cross his lap, but he was quick to lean back after that, getting enough out of the way so she didn't injure them trying to get into position.

"Here," she said, bracing herself on the arm of the couch, one knee sliding down into the crack between the seat and the back. He didn't ask if she was sure. Just set his hot palm on her ass and shifted around behind her. The throw pillows went tumbling to the ground, and then he pushed in, finding the perfect seat right away.

"Oh, oh, God." Leather didn't make for good purchase, but she grabbed on tight anyway, clutching the sofa arm hard as he thrust forward. His pants dragged against her thighs, and she could feel the cotton of his briefs against her ass; part of her wanted to laugh wildly at the sight they'd make. But he was so deep in this position, filling her up so good, that she didn't have breath for it anyway.

"You're so-- Fuck, Melissa, just." He clutched at her hips, pulling her back into his thrusts. He was pounding at her now, so good. She wanted to tell him to go harder, faster, but her arms were already braced tight against the arm of the sofa, pushing herself back into him. Any harder and she was afraid she'd crash into the lamp in front of her head. God, she'd never thought her sex life would be dangerous to her furniture. Not after so many years of being a dateless single mom.

"Are you close," he asked, sounding desperate. She was, she really, really was, but she was sitting on a plateau of good, no peak of awesome anywhere in site.

"Can you--"

His hand was there before she even drew breath to finish her question, fingers easing through the curls and finding her clit right away. He brought his other hand up to clutch at her shoulder, his grip iron, his thumb at the back of her neck.

"Do you have any idea how much you--" he panted, stroking her fast like she needed when she absolutely had to come now. "Please, Melissa, come on, come for me."

She did. She shuddered around him, letting her arms collapse under her to drop her weight to the couch. He was only seconds behind her, letting out the little high-pitched puppy-whine grunts that never failed to turn her on and amuse her at the same time. He dropped his head between her shoulder blades, his panted breath hot on her skin as he came, throbbing and wet inside her.

"I think I'm gonna need a nurse," he said, the words slurred and muffled by her skin. She laughed, but it came out more like a wheeze, pinned as she was. He moved back, his cock slipping out as he did, and guided her back down so she was more or less cuddled into his lap. They just sat there, breathing together, one of his hands playing with her hair.

"Parking tickets?" she finally asked.

He drew back enough that she could see his face. "What? It made sense!"

"Yeah, but." She bit her cheek, because she didn't want him to think she was laughing at him, but seriously, parking tickets? She'd been expecting something more sinister by far. Something sexier, maybe. She shrugged. "I don't have any overdue parking tickets."

"Well, no, because that would have been awkward."

There was something in his voice that had her reaching for him, cradling his face and tipping it so she could make out his eyes better in the filtered light. "Hey. Were you okay with that?"

He turned his head, screwing up his face so he could nip at her thumb. She smiled, relieved by his playfulness. "I gotta admit, I felt like a complete ass at first. But you were right, it _was_ hot as hell."

She kissed him, softly, then pulled back, rubbing her thumb over those perfect lines on his face. His eyes were saying the kind of things that wanted to spill out of her own mouth, desires and promises that were probably best kept safe in silence for the time being.

"Thank you," she murmured. "For trying it."

"It was definitely my pleasure." Then he looked down, at where his uniform pants were darkly wet, and grimaced. "But I am definitely going to need to get home and get these in the laundry before Stiles gets back from lacrosse practice."

She laughed. "Tell you what. You can throw them in with a load here while I dig out the leather cleaning kit--and then we'll spend the rest of our day off in bed. Scott's supposed to work until 8 tonight, anyway."

"You, my naughty nurse," he said, grinning up at her, "always have the best plans."

END

**Author's Note:**

> The sheriff and Melissa engage in pre-negotiated role playing wherein a woman offers a man in a position of authority sexual favors to get out of paying for parking tickets.


End file.
